The Sight
By
Nick B

 © Nick B 2008
Most beaudaciously proofed at the drop of a hat by Gabi

Annabel gets a visit and the police get ready to make a statement . . .

Chapter 5

Annabel sat in one of the nurses’ common rooms with a cup of coffee that was rapidly going cold, having phoned the police about Jennifer’s apparent disappearance. Reading a newspaper that someone had left behind earlier didn’t make it any easier. The front page read as follows:

Daily Express
Fourth woman disappears – Police to make a statement later today
25-year old Natalie Page disappeared two days ago after going to the bakers for a lunchtime snack.

Natalie’s boss, Stewart Noble said, “it was most unlike her not to be back early from lunch. I knew immediately that something was wrong.”

Natalie is the fourth woman over the last eighteen days to disappear from the area and there is speculation that they are in some way connected . . .

The lad in the ward she had been to see–or been drawn to, if that was a better way of putting it–earlier that morning, had definitely pulled something out of the hat when, the day before, he said what he had about what she wanted or needed to do.

However he did it; wherever he got the information, it was spot on and now this, she thought, studying the front page.

Did she believe him?

Should she believe him?

The fact remained that his rambling earlier may just have been just that–rambling; part of the dream. The names–well Jennifer’s name at least–could just have been coincidence, but then he had mentioned Natalie as well and to the best of Annabel’s knowledge, he hadn’t seen a newspaper.

He wouldn’t go to the police, refusing point blank to have anything to do with it and frankly as much as it hurt her to do so, she understood. There was no way that they would have taken his revelation with as much seriousness as she had and he would likely have been subjected to heartless, demeaning interrogation not to mention what would result for “wasting their time”.

For now, the fact remained that Jennifer was missing and Annabel was worried sick. Annabel’s pager beeped angrily and looking at it, she saw that there was someone in reception asking for her. Downstairs at the main entrance, even from behind, the figure of Annabel’s friend was unmistakeable.

“Sandy! What brings you here?” she asked.

“Oh, you know, I was in the area and thought I’d drop in,” Sandra said, though Annabel suspected there was something else.

“What do you want?” asked the intern, her eyebrow raised, arms folded and foot tapping.

“Oooh, you wound me,” laughed her friend and they embraced, air kissing before Annabel led her through to a waiting area. “Why would you think that just because I come to see you, I’m after something?”

“Because, dear friend, you always are!” The two of them laughed and sat at a quiet table to one side.

“So how are things with you?” asked Sandra. “It’s been ages.”

“Oh, you know; same old, same old. Overworked and underpaid as always,” said Annabel. “I have to say I’m pretty freaked out about those missing women. It’s all so close to home. Doesn’t make you feel safe does it?” She shuddered at the thought.

“Strange you should mention it. I’m going down to the police station shortly to hear what they have to say for themselves. Are you alright?”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t say,” Annabel said. “But I got pretty freaked out yesterday when some young lad told me some things about myself even I wasn’t sure of. Today, he said something about five women, Jennifer and that Natalie from the newspaper this morning, amongst others.”

“Jennifer?” asked Sandra sitting forward. “Jennifer–as in your flat mate, Jennifer?”

“Yes. She hasn’t been home the last couple of days and then this chap mentioned it earlier this morning. I wasn’t going to, but I just had to phone the police.” Annabel tried hard not to let the tears show, but they were starting to come thick and fast.

“You don’t think he has something to do with it do you?”

“No. No, definitely not. He’s been here since before she disappeared. He certainly couldn’t have known about me and––” she stopped herself, but could see Sandra had already picked up on it.

“You and Jennifer? Aren’t you the dark horse?” said Sandra putting her hand gently on her friend’s knee.

“It’s not like that…” Annabel started.

“But you wish it was?” The blush answered Sandra’s question.

“I haven’t told her,” said Annabel quietly, her eyes downcast.

“What were those other names?” said Sandra, taking a notepad and pen from her bag. “Can you remember?”

“Suzie, Amanda, Natalie, Liz and Jennifer I think were all the names.”

“That’s five now,” said Sandra, sounding very concerned.

“I know. I suggested he tell the police, but he won’t go and anyway, how can he possibly know all that? Even if he’s right, they’d never believe him.”

“Well, if it’s true that Jennifer’s one of them now, that means he’s hit two of the five names right on the button. Bit of a coincidence don’t you think? Is there any chance I can have a word?”

Annabel wasn’t sure about this, but she figured that Sandy, being a friend should be alright.

---

Darryl was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down his pale face.

“You’ve come to ask questions, haven’t you?” he stated before either of the girl’s had even opened their mouths.

“He’s perceptive, I’ll give him that,” said Sandra. “What else can you tell us about what you said to Annabel this morning?”

“I can’t say,” replied Darryl.

“Can’t or won’t?” asked Sandra.

“Does it matter?”

“Well it might to those poor girls,” said Sandra.

Darryl seemed to think long and hard, glancing from Annabel to Sandra and back again.

“They killed Suzie Croft. The police found her about fifteen minutes ago near to Seven Dials; it was awful,” he said and the tears started afresh from his eyes. Annabel felt sick. Whatever ability he had, it was affecting him badly to even think about what was happening and if it was even partially as bad as he seemed to think, the idea of Jennifer going through the same was just too much to bear.

“What about the others?”

“I think that’s enough, Sandy. I think we should leave him be,” Annabel said quietly, putting her hand on her friends forearm to lead her away from the obviously distraught young man in the bed.

“But he knows,” Sandra argued, shaking her friends hand from her arm and turning back to the bed.

“I don’t care if he knows the Pope himself. That’s enough,” Annabel repeated, through gritted teeth, taking her friend’s arm and almost dragging her away from the crying youth.

---

A missing person is always cause for alarm. They are a burden on resources, to their families and friends, curiously by their absence and often don’t want to be found in the first place. That said; when four women go missing in under as many weeks and none of them fit the profile of “runaway” then it is cause for concern. The phone call earlier made it potentially five.

How these people are found is something else entirely. Canvassing shelters for the homeless, favourite spots for tramps, watching railway stations, bus stations and airports is another and keeping vigilant is about all the police have for locating these people, short of sightings by members of the public.

Nowadays however, the public are loath to get involved.

Detective sergeant Ron Cummings had been given the dubious task of trying to make sense of these disappearances. Ron’s job was going to be hard enough, but he was also being asked to prepare and read a statement to the press.

“I’m not sure I should be giving this statement, sir,” Ron said to Detective Chief Inspector Rawles. “Wouldn’t it seem better coming from a more senior officer?” Ron wasn’t good at public speaking and wished to God that someone else–anyone else–would do it.

“Nonsense!” the chief inspector replied. “You’ll be fine. We have nothing firm to go on and it’s basically just an update, you know; keep those press bloodhounds off our backs. Besides, we have no proof that there is anything sinister about any of it and until we have more to go on, there’s little we can do, unless you have a crystal ball that is. Just let them know that we are treating it as suspicious, but at present don’t have anything to report.” The DCI went back to his paperwork without so much as another word–the kind of silent dismissal that left Ron in no doubt that he was the one with his head on the block.

Later that day in a specially set up room within the station, journalists had been invited to record the statement. There would be cameras, microphones and worse, questions.

Ron felt sick to his stomach.

Of course, hopes on both sides are always pinned on finding them all alive; and when the body of a young woman is discovered just an hour or so before the statement is due to be read . . .

By the time this news of this new development got back to the station, there was only twenty minutes before Ron had to go and face the press. He had already been sick twice and looked extremely green about the gills.

“You alright, Sarge?” asked one of the detective constables.

“Fine; I’m fine, thank you. I’m just not looking forward to this bloody announcement,” he replied somewhat curtly, but still managing a thin-lipped smile.

“Well, this might not make it any easier, DCI Rawles wants a word.”

“Bugger!” Ron exclaimed and went to the office.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, come in a minute,” said Ron’s senior officer, looking at his sergeant over the top of his glasses. “I suspect you’ve heard?”

“Heard what sir?” asked Cummings.

“They found the body of a young woman.”

“Who is it?”

“That hasn’t been determined as yet, but so far, not many know about it and I would like to keep it that way. We’re certainly not going to make it known until we know who she was. Don’t want the press or public jumping to conclusions do we?”

“I understand, sir.”

“I knew you would. Good luck.”

 
Ron needn’t have worried. They were quite a civilised bunch who waited patiently for his arrival and he was greeted civilly–albeit through a flicker of flashes, clicks, whirring of cameras and the rustle of hand-held recording devices.

Detective Sergeant Cummings delivered exactly what was written, and no more, until the end and the questions. He was very nearly caught out by the blonde in the grey suit.

“Is it true that you discovered Suzie Croft’s body?” she asked and a murmur rippled through the assembly.

Cummings tried to appear nonchalant about her question–not an easy task, given that already he felt the flurry of questions that would undoubtedly follow the blonde’s statement. He did well because he was shocked, as Rawles had said no-one knew. This one obviously did. “I’m afraid I can’t say at this time,” he said in a measured tone and left the makeshift podium.

He was aware that he started to sweat almost immediately that last question was asked. He was sure someone would pick up on it and that led him to worry about the speech. He sat, pale-faced at his desk with a cup of iced water from the dispenser in his hand.

“Sarge?” said a voice, somewhere in the back of his mind as he wondered how that woman had known that.

“Sarge?” said the voice a bit louder.

“What?”

“DCI Rawles wants a word.”

“Shit!” muttered Ron and taking the last gulp of water and balling the paper cup, he threw it into the bin, where it rattled around the top a couple of times before landing on the floor under his desk. “Shit twice!”

“Come in,” called the DCI after Ron had knocked on his door. “Ah, Cummings.”

“Sir. You wanted to see me?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes. Close the door would you?” asked the DCI and removed his glasses, leaning forward on the desk, peering at the sergeant.

“You handled that pretty well,” said Rawles.

“Thank you, sir. It was a bit touch and go at the end though.” Ron was starting to relax. He thought he’d made a complete pig’s ear of it and was pleased that his governor hadn’t felt the same.

“Maybe, but you neither confirmed or denied any of it. I wonder; where did the “ice queen” get that information? We don’t even know name of the victim yet.”

“Well speaking personally, the team has been told to keep it to themselves and I don’t believe anyone has spoken out of turn.”

“Look into it, will you?” The DCI put his glasses back on and returned to his paperwork.

“Yes, guv,” Ron started for the door, feeling a lot less anxious than before.

“Oh and, Cummings?”

“Sir?”

“Well done.”

“Thank you, sir.”

---

To be continued…

PS

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